


Green suits you

by livingforazirowley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Bad Writing, Brother Francis is also in there, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), Lance Corporal Shadwell - Freeform, M/M, No Romance, Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), R. P. Tyler Was a PI, Sorry Not Sorry, Young R. P. Tyler, aziraphale's pov, ineffable husbands, the 60s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2020-10-19 01:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20648609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingforazirowley/pseuds/livingforazirowley
Summary: Crowley starts working with Lance Corporal Shadwell in the 60s and Aziraphale is concerned. Brother Francis and jealousy ensue because Aziraphale is bad at managing his feelings.





	1. Chapter 1

London Soho, 1967

Aziraphale stood at the door of the bookshop and watched the Bentley drive away. Oh, boy, he hoped he had done the right thing by giving Crowley the thermos. It had been bothering him for years, unable to understand why his counterpart would ask for such a thing, but he realised he had to do something before Crowley could hurt himself. He sighed and entered the bookshop.

*

“Lance Corporal Shadwell speaking” said a voice at the other end of the line.

“Uh… hello, Mr Shadwell. I need your manpower. See you at the meeting point number six at nine pm” said Crowley and hung up the phone without waiting for an answer.

He exited the booth, got in the Bentley and turned on the engine before entering the London traffic. Soon enough, he was parking the car in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop and welcoming the familiar warmth.

“Is that you, Crowley?” said Aziraphale from behind a pile of books. He popped his head to look at the visitor. “Ah, hello, dear” he beamed and approached the demon to greet him.

“Hi there, angel. How’s it going?” he answered.

“Quite well, I must admit” he smirked and went to put on the ‘Closed’ sign so they wouldn’t be bothered. He locked the door and turned to continue talking to the demon. “I have managed to put my hands on a very special edition of Blackwood’s Magazine, the one featuring The Portrait of Mr. W. H. by Oscar Wilde. It needs some reparation, but I am actually looking forward to it” he wiggled a bit, unable to hide his excitement. “Please, dear, go make yourself comfortable and I will bring some tea”.

Crowley sprawled on a chair next to the fireplace and waited for the angel to return. He looked around and took one of the books resting on the tea table to his left. “Fahrenheit 451”, he read. Crowley raised an eyebrow, somewhat perplexed. He put it back where it was right when Aziraphale returned with a silver trail.

“So, what brings you here today, dear boy?” the angel said as he served the tea. It had been a few months since Aziraphale had given the tartan thermos to Crowley and their relationship became a comfortable dynamic of meeting for tea, going to museums and the theatre and sometimes going to fancy restaurants and drinking wine. Even though Aziraphale still didn’t understand Crowley’s reasons behind requesting the holy water, he had come to terms with himself and was now happy with his own decisions. The demon was ever so happy since then, only he would never admit that, but Aziraphale knew. And that made him happy as well. He gave the tea cup to Crowley and started pouring himself one.

“Nothing in particular, really. Just had some free time until nine and guessed I could come by” Crowley took a sip. “If that’s ok with you, of course.” he muttered, lips still pressing the porcelain.

“Of course it is ok, dear. I love having you here” he said. “Foul fiend.” he added and took a sip of his own. He hummed, delighted. “What is it that you need to do later tonight? I was really hoping we could try that new fondue place down the street. I heard they do a special mix of cheeses that is spectacular” he raised his eyebrows invitingly.

“Uh, sorry, angel. Can’t. I’m meeting a new friend tonight. Probably get him into some trouble” he shrugged. “Maybe next week, eh?”.

“Quite right, dear” Aziraphale sounded a bit disappointed. Not that he was, was he? He hadn’t expected the demon to come by the bookshop in the first place, so it didn’t make any sense that he felt disenchanted by Crowley’s refusal. He reached for a biscuit and started munching on it, frowning and looking at the table in front of him. Crowley, on his side, did not notice anything of what was going on and started telling Aziraphale about how he had learned that the humans were planning on landing on the Moon. “The Moon, angel! These humans are crazy. '' And so they spent the evening.

“Oh, shit, angel, I need to go.” Crowley suddenly stood up, startling Aziraphale, who had forgotten about that detail. “I’m running late, see you” and he left, leaving Aziraphale still sitting on the sofa covered in biscuit crambles and looking at the swinging bell on top of the door.

*

“So, how was the rendez-vous with your new friend?” Aziraphale had managed not to ask for a solid twenty minutes. As agreed the previous week, Crowley took the angel to that new fondue place and they were now sitting at the far end of the restaurant waiting for the meal to come.

“Fine, yeah” he answered. He wasn’t planning on talking to Aziraphale about the young lance corporal and his army. If their plans to bring down the electric supply to the venue where certain pop band was going to perform their last concert was a success, he was going to keep that secret weapon for himself. Sure, there were still many details to be worked out, but Crowley had managed to convince the witchfinder to put his manpower to work. Crowley bet he would piss so many people, and give them a little scare in the darkness that would ensue, that he would cause a riot. And angry witches make more mistakes and therefore make themselves easier to find, or so he explained to Shadwell. Shadwell had to agree to that. Plus, the lance corporal was being paid a generous wage for this particular work, so it was a win-win situation for him.

Crowley hoped he would get some well-deserved holidays after that, possibly going to the beach, as it was lately being fashionable. With any luck, he would be able to convince Aziraphale to join him.

“Well, I’m glad to hear” Aziraphale said. “Perhaps you could introduce them to me someday,” he suggested.

“Huh, what?” Crowley came back to reality. “Oh, no, angel, I don’t think you would like him. At all” he shook his head dismissively. “He’s… more down my alley than yours, so to speak”.

“Whatever do you mean, dear?” Aziraphale was getting more and more curious about this friend of Crowley’s. Maybe he was some kind of evil, a bad influence. After all these years, Aziraphale wouldn’t be at ease unless he was certain that this so-called friend was not going to hurt Crowley. They had been protecting each other for centuries and he was starting to feel that this could be a new circumstance where his assistance would be required.

“You know… The usual stuff. The stuff you don’t usually like, I don’t know. He’s not very well mannered. And he looks like he’s always about to start a fight. And probably win it” he shrugged, hoping that description would stop Aziraphale from asking.

“Doesn’t seem like your type either” the angel scoffed.

“Gentlemen” the waiter interrupted.”Your fondue. Please enjoy.” he said, and left them with an assortment of vegetables and meat arranged around a pot of steaming hot cheese. Aziraphale licked his lips and immediately took the fork, quickly forgetting about the conversation they were having.

*

“See you around, angel. Gotta go” said Crowley, once they were outside the restaurant. He had only tried a few dipped pieces of the fondue but felt as if he had swallowed an entire antilope. Perhaps the sparkly rosé they had hadn’t helped.

“Why in such a hurry?” Aziraphale hiccupped, more affected by the wine than Crowley. “Are you meeting the not-very-well-mannered gentleman?” the question slipped out before he realised.

“None of your business, but yes I am” Crowley hated it when Aziraphale wanted to uninvitedly meddle with his duties. One thing was the Arrangement and another thing was him directly interfering with his demonic work. “Good bye” he said, and left Aziraphale standing on the sidewalk. He snorted before he started angrily walking back to the bookshop.

He took off his coat and hung it on the hook before plunging on the sofa.

“Cheeky” he said and looked around as if searching for something to do. “I just wanted to know if he was meeting his wonderful new friend. None of my business, quite alright, but I am his oldest acquaintance and I have the right to ask about what he does with his free time without being barked at” he fiddled with his cufflinks and stood up, feeling restless. He went to the cupboard in the back office and opened a bottle of red wine. He poured himself a generous cup and went back to the sofa. “Not down my alley, my end” he startled himself with his own language but continued rambling. “He’s ready to start a fight anytime and win it, that most positively doesn’t sound like a reasonable person. At all!” He took a sip of the wine and tapped his fingers. He suddenly opened his mouth and raised his brows to the brim of his hairline, the epitome of sudden realisation. “He might be in danger... I must do something!” he sloppily placed the glass of wine on the table and got up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't understand how Shadwell speaks, so he just speaks normally.

Angels have different techniques at hand to track down occult beings. Perks of being the good guys, one could say, was playing with advantage. Yet, Aziraphale opted for a less conventional but more crafty approach that he had developed: following Crowley’s scent. It wasn’t easy, mind you, but it paid off: this particular system could not be tracked down by Heaven.

He raised his nose and started sniffing. The engines pollution was masking other scents, but it was far better than the times were all cars were pulled by horses producing their own more ecological pollution. He turned his head and sniffed some more. “Ah, there you go” Aziraphale said once he located what he was looking for and started walking purposefully.

The sun was already setting when Aziraphale arrived, sweating and panting, at a small coffee shop. He produced a handkerchief from under his sleeve and dried his forehead before looking through the window. The angel could barely see through all the dirt adhered to the glass but he quickly spotted the demon’s back. He was sharing the table with a young man, who was sitting across Crowley and looked like he was describing something. He stopped his explanation and looked right at where Aziraphale was standing. The angel gasped and quickly turned around, backing against the brick wall next to the cafe. He held his breath for a moment and prayed he hadn’t been spotted.

“Well, let’s see.” Aziraphale said after a few moments, rearranging his ascot tie. He looked around, looking for inspiration. It was getting late and he couldn’t afford Crowley seeing him there. He wouldn’t be able to give a plausible explanation without spilling the beans, but he needed to obtain further information before proceeding to save Crowley. He needed a disguise. A good one, one that would fool even the demon. 

Aziraphale started walking again, looking for an alley that would give him some privacy. “This should do” he muttered when he found the place. He looked around, making sure he would not be bothered, and swished his hand up and down in front of him. He no longer looked like Aziraphale. The only things he had in common with his four-seconds-ago self were the following: looking like a white man and having blond hair. His teeth had been replaced with new ones that looked like a bunch of old piano keys thrown in there, impeding him from closing his mouth. The skin was covered in a nasty rash and his eyes were hidden under bushy eyebrows. Aziraphale had also changed his clothes and was now wearing something more casual, something he would never wear: a cream mackintosh so big it covered him almost to his feet, a light blue navy cap and a tartan scarf. 

He ordered some tea and decided to do some facts recap. No personal feelings or impressions whatsoever, he was determined to be professional about this. The situation called for it.

On the bright side, the afternoon had produced positive results. He now knew the man’s name, which meant he could find him and learn about his whereabouts. Or better, he could have a human do that for him. Humans are good at finding other humans, after all.

What’s more, they had revealed valuable information about their next meeting. Alright, he didn’t know the exact date, but they had mentioned at what time did the concert start and when and where they were going to meet. It was not unreasonable to assume that the concert wouldn’t be far away in the future as it was the next time they were going to see each other.

Aziraphale had work to do.

*

“Good morning. This is A. Z. Fell, may I talk to Mr. R. P. Tyler?” he paused, waiting for an answer on the other end of the line. “Yes, I am calling for the advert in the newspaper that reads “R. P. Tyler. Skilled operatives in all phases of investigation. Yes, I’ll wait…”. He had arrived at the bookshop barely fifteen minutes ago. Once he had made sure he had his usual face back and prepared himself some cocoa, he looked for the cut-off advert in a folder he kept by his desk with other potentially useful information he had been gathering over the years. “Hello, sir. My name is Mr. Fell. I am interested in hiring your services. I would like to find a man and what he does in his free time. That’s correct, suspect location and usual surveillance activities.” he nodded in agreement. “Yes, I understand. His name is Shadwell, he is in his twenties or thirties and has blond hair. I hope this is sufficient to get your… activities started.” They discussed some additional details before he hung up the phone, pleased with the result.

Next, he rang Crowley.

"Dear Crowley. How about we go out for dinner?" Aziraphale was beaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be getting a little bit out of hands for me, but sometimes stories have their own plans. Anyway, it's just for the fun, eh? :)


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, angel. You ready?” said Crowley as he entered the bookshop.

“Just a minute, dear.” Answered Aziraphale as he nervously adjusted his bowtie.

The angel had returned a few hours ago from his meeting with the private investigator, Mr. Tyler. It had been a few days since he had last seen Crowley. He had spent the entire dinner trying to obtain further details about Shadwell, something that he could bring to Mr. Tyler and speed up the process. It had turned all wrong, with Crowley leaving mid-dinner and saying goodbye with a harsh “I guess I’ll go hang out with him. At least he isn’t so annoying.” Aziraphale had felt terrible and… angry? That wasn’t something he had expected to feel, but it was there. He decided, however, that it was best to compartmentalise this feeling and perhaps examine it afterwards.

So he hadn’t been able to collect further intel for the meeting with the investigator and he had made Crowley and himself mad, but it was all for the sake of Crowley’s well-being. Fueled by this thought, he went to see Mr. Tyler.

“Good morning. My name is Mr. Fell. I believe I have an appointment with Mr. Tyler today.” he said to the secretary at the small lobby. She checked some notes.

“Right, Mr. Fell. Welcome. Please have a seat.” she pointed at two small chairs. “Mr. Tyler, Mr. Fell has arrived.” she said through the interphone. An answer was received from the other end but Aziraphale could not understand a word. He primly sat down and waited, humming and taking a look at his surroundings. Another inintelligible sound came from the interphone before the secretary invited Aziraphale to go in and meet Mr. Tyler.

After Aziraphale paid the standard fee plus a generous incentive, Mr. Tyler promptly provided the angel with all the information he had gathered so far. The man had made a good job, putting together a dossier containing several pictures of Shadwell, some of them featuring Crowley, his address and his prison records. Aziraphale winced when he saw this last document.

“I can see why you are interested in following this former convict, Mr. Fell. Anyone could tell he is up to no good. But, I must warn you, you ought to be careful with him. He’s got some dangerous friends and you seem like a... Fine man.” The private investigator seemed concerned but Aziraphale was still going through all the documentation, paying him little attention. “For a small additional fee I could gather more information about him. His daily routine, his acquaintances,... You just have to ask and I will be on it.”

“S-sorry, I have to go. Thank you very much for your work, Mr. Tyler”. Aziraphale stood up, shook his hand and hurriedly left the office. On his way home, he took a look at the dossier.

There were about twenty photographs, many featuring Shadwell walking on the street, smoking or walking on the street and smoking. One of them showed him sitting in a pub with a beer in his hand and talking to a lanky, blurry man that was all dressed in black. In another one he was walking side by side with Crowley in the park. No mistakes there. He had been definitely, no-room-for-denial, doubtlessly strolling through the park with Crowley.

A little bit shakier than he would have liked, Aziraphale looked at the back of the pictures, where Mr. Tyler had made some notes. Both photographs had been taken on the same day. Aziraphale frowned, realising that it was the day they had had the argument on. Apparently, Crowley had meant it when he said he was going to meet Shadwell. It hadn’t been a bluff just to make Aziraphale angry. He had carried on with it, hurting the angel twice as much. It fed the angry suspicion he had been carrying with him for the past few days.

As soon as he arrived at the bookshop he set up his desk for some proper reading. In summary, Aziraphale found three relevant things to know. First, Shadwell was a member of an organisation called The Witchfinder Army. Second, he had been imprisoned for repeated disruption of the public’s safety (namely, public drunk urination) and justice obstruction. Third, the fact that he was alive despite having a diet exclusively based on condensed milk, tea and beer. 

This might seem like a small joke, but it is not to be taken lightly. For a clever angel like Aziraphale, it was clear evidence that Shadwell was, in fact, an occult being. It explained how he had met Crowley. It explained that he could survive such amount of sugar in his bloodstream. It explained being plainly evil. He probably took his time in prison to ensure that the other prisoners would end up in Hell. And the Witchfinder Army was just a cover to recruit oblivious humans and get them to do the dirty work.

Aziraphale decided he had to intervene as soon as possible. He paced up and down the bookshop, hands laced on his back, humming and stopping every now and then when he thought he had an interesting idea until Crowley had entered the store looking for him.

“ ‘S everything alright?” asked Crowley, looking at Aziraphale.

“Watch the road!” Aziraphale yelled as the demon barely avoided a woman crossing the street. 

“She’s going to die sooner or later, what’s the difference if she dies now? She knows it can happen any minute... ” he shrugged it off and kept on driving just as fast while Aziraphale resumed thinking about his action plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for making it up to here, I appreciate it :)  
If you'd like, I'm also in Tumblr (@livingforazirowley) and I don't post much but you will know when I post the next chapter(s)


	4. Chapter 4

“Listen, Crowley” said Aziraphale as he took the last bite of his sundae. “I’ve been thinking”.

“Is that so?” he answered, sipping on his coffee.

“Yes” Aziraphale cleaned his mouth with the napkin. “I have” he placed the napkin aside and crossed his hands on his lap while looking for the right words. “I am worried about you and I think I should step in and lend you a hand”.

“Worried? About me? What'd you mean?” Crowley shifted in his seat, now concerned about the conversation.

“Well, yes. I couldn’t help but notice that you have been meeting this… Shadwell quite often lately”.

“Is there a problem with that?” Crowley was acting defensive, Aziraphale could almost hear the gates closing. He had to be careful.

“No, not at all. I know I’m not expected to interfere with your viles outside the Arrangement” Aziraphale raised a hand in a reassuring gesture. “Please let me explain myself”. He inhaled deeply, still looking for the right way to approach this. Crowley sat back, trying to look nonchalant, his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow arched over the brim of his sunglasses.

“Please go on then” the demon said, mockingly.

“Well… How to put this? Hm, I guess it’s best to be plainly honest with you. It’s the angelic thing to do, isn’t it? So... I hired a private investigator to follow Mr Shadwell”.

“You did what!?” Crowley sat on the edge of his seat. “Why on Earth would you do that for, Aziraphale? I thought we had an Arrangement. Oh, for Satan’s sake, he’d better not spotted your stupid detective or he’s going to mess everything up!”.

“Not to worry about that, Crowley. I hired the best one I could find” Aziraphale promptly tried to dismiss Crowley’s worries. “But, see? You are worried he will mess everything up. That doesn’t sound like the type of person you should be hanging around with” he added, furrowing his brow in concern.

“Since when do you care who I hang around with, angel? I’m a demon, that’s what I do. Hang around bad people, isn’t it?” Aziraphale could see he had touched a sore spot, but Crowley’s words had also stung the angel.

“Bu- but, Crowley! Dear fellow, that’s not- That’s just _work_. You are hanging out with me, right? And I very much like to think that I’m not a bad person… Not that I’m a person, as a matter of fact, but you know what my point is” he started pouting towards the end of his rant, still processing how hurt he felt. Crowley looked at him and eased his face.

“Angel… I don’t think you could possibly be a bad person, even if you were human. Not even a bad angel, but you've got to understand” Crowley sighed and moved forward, his lips pursed, distractedly taking the empty glass by its rim and making its content swirl. “We have an Arrangement. _The_ Arrangement. We work together whenever we might be cancelling each other out, so we can use that time to… explore what Earth has to offer” he took a sip, side looking at Aziraphale, who looked fairly stressed. Then again, that was his default mode. “But we agreed we wouldn’t interfere with each other’s work unless it's required”.

“So this is _work_?” Aziraphale replied.

“Why- yes, of course. What did you think this was?”

“Uh… Well, to be honest, I’m not quite sure” Aziraphale drew a small, apologetic smile. “I guess a new acquaintance?” his gaze was everywhere but on Crowley. What had he thought indeed that took him to hire a private detective and put at risk the relationship he had with Crowley?

“YOU WERE JEALOUS!” snapped Crowley, pointing accusingly at Aziraphale with one finger and thoroughly amused by it.

“What? No! How- Whatever are you saying, Crowley? I think you should sober up, you are talking nonsense” Aziraphale crossed his arms over his chest.

“Angel, you were jealous, admit it” Crowley was not going to let this one go by, oh it was too good. “You were jealous of Lance Corporal Shadwell, of all things!” he was enjoying it.

“Please, lower your tone. People are staring at us” Aziraphale pleaded in a hushed tone, looking around him without moving his head. He could feel his neck redden, worrying they were attracting unwanted attention.

“Why, angel? Is it tough hearing the truth?” the demon teased, although he did lower his voice. 

“That is not the truth. I was not acting on... _jealousy_” he lowered his tone even more “of a demon who survives purely on sugar and cigarettes”.

“A demon” said Crowley, pausing for a second “A _demon_?” he repeated. “You think Shadwell is a demon?” Crowley burst out laughing, unable to control himself, patting the table. Oh, this was too good.

“Crowley, it’s not funny!” Aziraphale kept looking at his sides, avoiding Crowley’s gaze. “I was being kind towards my fellow because I worried you were in danger,” he said, more to himself than to the laughing demon sitting across the table.

“Well, it is!” Crowley wiped his eyes, he was laughing so hard he had started crying. “Oh, Satan, I can’t believe you thought Shadwell was a demon… A demon, of all things! How did you come to that?” he said, still giggling.

“I will tell you if you will stop laughing” Aziraphale started to think he wouldn’t be able to stand another minute sitting there, watching Crowley laughing at him. Mostly because he had started to think that, perhaps, the demon was right. But also because being laughed at in public was never pleasant. 

“Alrigh’, alrigh’” Crowley agreed as he took a few steadying breaths “I will stop”.

“Good. Thank you, I appreciate it” the angel paused for a second, trying to find the courage to explain his trail of thought. Now that he knew Shadwell wasn’t a demon, it all seemed to fall apart in his head. He inhaled a deep breath before he started his explanation. “If you must know, Crowley, I believed Mr Shadwell was a demon because he was imprisoned, he is quite unpleasant to the nose, it seems he doesn’t consume any nutritious meals and yet he manages to look like a thirty-year old man and he dresses like one of your colleagues”. As he spoke, it seemed clearer and clearer to him that he had jumped into a very wrong conclusion.

“So, let me see if I got it right. You see me meeting a man, a human that wears an old coat, who consumes sugar like a drug addict and who has been in jail and you assume he’s a demon” Crowley summarised, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in his voice.

“Well, yes, but-”

“And then you tell me you’re worried? Because I was hanging out with a demon? Instead of with you?” he continued, not letting go.

“Yes, but-”

“And to top it off, you tell me it’s not because you’re jealous, but because you worry about me. Sure thing, angel” he took the last sip of his wine, giving Aziraphale a short break.

“I guess you’re right”.

"I’m sorry, what?” Crowley spit his drink dramatically.

“I said, I guess you’re right. Crowley, dear” he sighed and put his napkin aside, a serious expression taking over his face. “We have been here on Earth for quite a while now. Just the two of us, watching humanity thrive. Granted, we have spent eras without seeing each other, but it has been different lately. More pleasurable, I would say, and it’s thanks to your company” he finally dared raise his eyes to meet Crowley’s. The demon seemed to have frozen, you could almost hear the gears shrieking in his brain trying to process the situation. For some reason, he no longer found the situation funny.

“Nng” he managed.

“Quite right, dear. I’m still trying to come to terms with it too. But you have helped me understand that I wasn’t being honest with myself. And I want to apologise. I haven’t been fair to Mr Shadwell, to our Arrangement and- well, to you, Crowley. I am in no right to claim you to myself and, although I now realise Mr Shadwell is a human you are working with, you should be free to spend your free time with whomever you like best without having a… well, a jealous angel interfering” he drew a small smile, preparing himself for Crowley’s scornful remark.

“What if I’d rather spend my time with you?” said the demon so fast it sounded like a single word.

Aziraphale raised his gaze.

“You do?” hope started to brighten his face. Crowley growled before answering.

“Of course I do, angel…” Crowley said, almost reluctantly. This one had backfired.

“But we are hereditary enemies!” Aziraphale said, teasing a little bit.

“Don’t push it angel, you enjoy hanging out with me too” he said, teasing back. “Let’s just move on with our lives, please”. Crowley got up and left a bunch of notes on the table.

“You know what, Crowley? I actually do enjoy spending my time with you, you foul fiend” Aziraphale stood up and started walking towards the door. “What would you say to a beautiful red wine I have been saving for special occasions?”

“Sounds like fun” answered Crowley, and followed the angel outside.

They drove back to the bookshop, opened the bottle of wine, drunk solidly for a few hours and started talking what seemed nonsense for the observer but made perfect sense to them. And they did the exact same thing later that week. And then again a few days after that. And again and again until it became part of their lives. Because that is precisely what they did: finding lovely things to enjoy and collect, little patisseries in Paris, the most exuberant plants in London, misprinted Bibles, small tokens from here and there, and yes, also nice demons and bastard angels and whatnot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely reader! I'm glad you made it to the end  
I know it's not as climactic as I would have hoped for, but I have struggled for so long to finish any writing lately that I'm just happy I managed to get this one done  
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little story, and please check my other works - I promise they're better than this one :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!  
I should have been doing the laundry, but this has been far more entertaining.  
Further chapters await, please expect jealous Aziraphale and oblivious Crowley, because some times role reversal is needed.  
As always, comments are quite definitely welcomed :)  
PS: Thanks to my friend who beta read it and just encouraged me to go on with it!<3


End file.
